


Life Moves On, But You Don't

by syniaie



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Existential Crisis, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Mentions of Solipsism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 01:49:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21046319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syniaie/pseuds/syniaie
Summary: Noctis has been gone for ten years. When he comes back, he's not sure what he is any more.





	Life Moves On, But You Don't

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by 'everything stays' from adventure time
> 
> have fun

Ten years.

Ten damn years.

Noctis never expected time to stop for him. He knew just as well as anyone that the seconds ticked by regardless of circumstance. But, in a life that had been so painfully centered around him, hearing that it wasn't had his head spinning.

Ten years. Ten years without him, and time had gone on. Without him, his friends grew up, became the people they were supposed to be. Noctis… If anything, he was the same mopey twenty year old inside a body older than his mind. 

They had changed so, so much.

Even without getting close he could feel the weariness in their bones and eyes, the product of grinding themselves down to dust in an effort to save as many people as possible. Prompto's smile didn't reach his eyes any more, even though Noctis could tell it had brightened from his presence. Ignis could see with his ears, sightless milky white eyes staring deep into his own even though he's given no indication of his position. Gladio's normally tall shoulders had been low, drooping under the weight of responsibility before his Shield caught a glance of him. What connected them all was the bags beneath their eyes and the hope that gleamed anew in their glances towards him. Heavy and dark splotches stained their cheeks, looking almost more a bruise than an indication of stress. 

It hurt, seeing how fall they'd fallen trying to hold the world together in his absence.

Though Noctis noted their joy at his arrival, he couldn't shake the guilt and miserable fury pooling in his gut. Why, he almost asked aloud to the gods he knew wouldn't answer. Why did you take me from them? Why did you make them suffer?

But more than that was the shock - the hazy, dreamlike quality of everything he saw, consuming him, drowning him in waves of aching familiarity and burning disbelief. How had time stopped for him, but not them? How could they have moved on without him? 

Something he read as a child pulsed at the back of his mind. A short story. A man who didn't believe anything existed until he set eyes upon it, and ceased to exist once his gaze moved on. Noctis' sights blurred, struggling to comprehend. How dare everything exist without his supervision? How dare time move on without his consent?

How dare he be so insignificant when all his life he had been led to believe he was important?

Everything passed by in a blur until he managed to stumble his way over to a deserted alley, sinking to his knees and leaning heavily against the cool concrete of the wall. Noctis' eyes shut, eyelids twitching, the tidal wave of realization starting to break into chunks. 

Ten fucking years, and life had moved on.

Hot tears streamed down his cheeks, a shaky sob wrenching itself from his throat. He wasn't important. He, Noctis Lucis Caelum, was less than a damn speck of dust in this infinite universe, and it hurt to be so small.

Fingernails scraped at the cracked concrete beneath him, feeling over the bumps and ridges, trying to ground himself. What did it matter if a single speck disappeared off the face of the planet? There would be no pause, no search for the pathetic particle, lost to infinity. 

Noctis felt like nothing, and he didn't know nothing could feel so bad.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump out of his tears, cutting off the viscous wail that had been brewing in his throat. He flinched away, but it held tight, firmly tying his brain back down to the ground.

"Noct?" Ignis murmured, voice low and soft. Noctis hisses under his breath. Of course he had heard. His ears are too damn sensitive.

Gladio and Promtpo lingered behind him, peeking at him with worried eyes from behind his advisor. He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "I'm- I'm fine. It's fine."

"Like hell it is," Gladio spoke up, getting down on his knees to be closer to his king. "C'mon. You can tell us."

"We won't judge, Noct, promise!" Prompto added, taking to Noctis' other side as Ignis lowered himself as well.

"He's right, you know. Now is no time for holding back. You can trust us, Noct."

He only half paid attention to Ignis' words, taking comfort in the gently affectionate touches from all three of his retinue. The tension eased from his body, shoulders sagging as the last of his reservations left him. Some things never change.

"I-" Noctis croaked, both reveling and wilting in the attention of his friends. "I can't… Everything changed without me. I… If I was really so important, it would've waited for me. I'm… not special. I'm nothing."

The first thing he registered was Prompto's hand squeezing his own, not tight enough to hurt but tight enough to make the veins in his wrist thrum with pressure. Ignis' hand still perched on his shoulder, giving only a light, gentle squeeze instead of Prompto's death grip. Gladio's hand rested on his knee, slowly stroking over the worn fabric of his pants. The familiarity made Noctis want to cry again.

"You are something, Noct," Prompto insisted, nails pressing half moons into his soft skin. "You're the True King. The Bringer of Light."

"And if that doesn't mean anything to you, you matter to us," Ignis stated, as if it was as obvious to him as the idea that he needed air to breathe. "First and foremost, you will always be our friend."

"We only did what we had to do so we could wait for you, Princess. Not like we wanted all this time to go by. We sure as hell wouldn't do that for someone who doesn't deserve to be waited for, and you do."

Noctis' throat threatened to coil itself into a knot, his chest tight and eyes once again brimming with tears. For a second, a thought that they were lying to him crept into his mind, but he immediately dismissed it. They'd never lie to him. His friends. His comrades. The ones he trusted like no other. 

They cared about him. Even if every other atom in this universe didn't give two shits, they did.

And honestly? That's all he ever needed.

Noctis tried to speak, to tell them the thank yous they deserved for loving him, but nothing came out. Instead, a shaky, grateful wheeze blossomed from his throat, and his eyes shut again. As he was slowly enveloped in the arms of the people he trusted wholeheartedly, another few tears slid down his gruff cheeks and into his beard.

He mattered to them, and that was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had the WORST writer's block ever and I want to write So Bad but I just can't h
> 
> also the work mentioned in this is something I read as a kid; No Particular Night Or Morning from The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury. I'm a super huge fan of his stuff and it's influenced me a lot so
> 
> edit 11/18/19: fixed a couple grammar and spelling issues


End file.
